Desert Crossing - a Cooper Smith Story
by kayaklady
Summary: A continuation of the Eli Bancroft Story. It has been two years since Coop used this trail to cross to California, and his encounter with Eli Bancroft. The crossing reawakens memories he thought long buried.


**Desert Crossing – a Cooper Smith Story**

 **By Kayaklady**

Special thanks to my husband who helps wrangle these things into something more readable.

Disclaimer: Wagon Train and its characters aren't owned by me. Thanks to whoever does, for letting me borrow them for a bit. Original characters and situations are my creations and I reserve the rights to them.

WT*WT*WT*WT

Catching the smell of wood smoke coming from the trees lining Red Creek, Coop pushed Gambler into a dust raising trot and quickly rejoined the wagon train. Pulling up alongside Bill he called, "Where's Chris?"  
"Over at the Bardon's. One of their front wheels cracked a spoke."  
Coop turned Gambler's head in the direction Bill pointed, "Thanks."  
Bill called to the retreating back of his friend, "Hey! How is the spring at Junction?" Coop's let his shoulders sag a bit as a reply, and Bill muttered under his breath, "That good huh."

Arriving at the wagon, Coop watched Guy Bardon and Chris lower it down off the jack while Wooster had his hands full with a small squirming pile of petticoats. "Chrissy, I'll let you down once the jack is clear of the wagon. I swear you have more curiosity then a sack of kittens," he admonished the four year old.  
A harried, "My word, is that child bothering you again?" marked the arrival of Chrissy's mama. Her hair had escaped its bun and hung about her face in chaotic wisps while she struggled with a baby in each arm.  
Charlie replied, "No, she's no bother at'll. Happy to take her off your hands for a minute."  
"I don't know what I'd do without everyone's help. I never knew handling twins was so much harder than one."

Coop's face darkened. The news he had for Chris was just going to bring more hardship to these folks who'd seen nothing but trouble since they'd left St. Joe. Delay had followed delay until they'd been forced into taking the southern route of the Mormon Trail into California. He caught Chris' eye, tilted his head toward the cook wagon, and let the tone of his voice convey his concern, "A word with you."  
"Sure, be right there." Chris' tone let the scout know that his message was understood. Coop's report wasn't meant for the passengers' ears.

Once at the cook wagon, Coop gave Chris the news. "Junction Springs is dry. I wasn't able to try for Soda Springs as I was out of water."  
"Not really your fault. Junction always has water; it never crossed my mind that it wouldn't. Well, no help for it, we'll just have to make for Tremont from here. You know a little of this country, any water between us and Tremont?"  
"Yeah, one. Trader's place ten miles southwest of here has a well." Something in Coop's voice caused the wagon master to look up at him.  
Chris started, "Was that …?"  
Coop interrupted, "Uh-huh, Money Joe's, where Eli sold the wagons."  
Chris' face turned grim, "You think Joe is still there?"  
"Don't know," the scout shrugged, "The sheriff planned on arresting him for selling stolen goods, but Joe was oily enough that he might have gotten away."  
"No matter, we need the water. We'll camp there tomorrow night. Once we get to Tremont we'll cut back to the main trail and use Soda Springs. From now on we won't take anything else for granted. I want you to ride for Soda in three days. Check it out and meet us in Tremont. If Soda's dry we'll get an extra wagon for water, and make the run for Riverdale." With orders given, and a plan in place, Chris left to update Wooster and Bill.

Coop wandered outside the ring of wagons and up the hillside. As he walked he thought, " _Why did Chris have to stop right here? That's easy, because it is the best campsite for miles."_ He kicked a small rock and continued his answer, " _Same reason Tom Jackson used it."_ Wandering a bit further up the hillside Coop found himself standing near the rock that marked the graves of Eli and Adam Bancroft. Spitting on the dirt at his feet he said, "Got what you deserved you scum." Turning on his heel, he then strode angrily back to camp.

Coop laid in his bedroll near the creek listening to the cheerful lullaby, but the stream of memories made getting to sleep difficult. When sleep finally arrived, his dreams came nightmarishly alive, leaving him thrashing about and re-fighting Jackson and Talley only now the men were replaced with three of the four Bancrofts. This time they got the noose over Coop's head, and were pulling him off the ground when Chris shook him awake. "You OK?" Chris asked.  
He shook his head, "Yeah, just a bad dream."  
"Sounded like a whooper. You normally aren't that vocal."

"Sorry Chris, it's this place, too many memories," he replied quietly.  
Chris cocked one bushy eyebrow upward. "What do you mean this place? We've never camped here before."  
Coop pointed across the wagon circle. "See that big tree by the Hawthorn wagon? That was where Tom Jackson was going to hang me. That pile of rocks behind the Bardon's is where Eli died."  
The lines in Chris' worn face deepened in a grimace, "I see what you mean about too many memories. Are you going to be alright heading in to Money Joe's tomorrow?"  
The scout shrugged, "I'll make do, but I think I'll see if there is any coffee left. I doubt if I'll get any more sleep tonight. See you in the morning. "

WT*WT*WT*WT

The small trading post hadn't changed much in two years. The walls were a bit more worn, and there were a few more weeds in the yard. The biggest change was the sign on the porch. It now read 'Decker's Trading'. Jim Decker was thin where Joe had been fat, but the hard look in his eyes was the same. Chris haggled with the man about the cost of water, and finally an acceptable price was met. Some of the train passengers got a few supplies, but most would wait out the four day journey to Tremont.

It took Coop a couple minutes to walk into the small house that doubled as the store. He was glad that he didn't spot any little girls dresses this time. He asked the proprietor, "So have you been running this place long?"  
"Two years now. I took over after the Tremont vigilance committee hung Money Joe from that big tree out in the yard. You need anything mister?" Jim spoke with the same odd accent that Joe once used.  
"Yes. I need a plank to make a tombstone."  
"Anyone I know?" Jim's hand dropped below the counter.  
"No, it is for a little girl I once knew."  
Decker's face brightened, "I got perfect board. You carve whatever you want on it. Last a long time. Wait here, I get."

Jim returned with the wood. At one time there had been letters on it, but they had mostly weathered away; in the dim light inside the store they were illegible. The two men haggled and Coop walked out of the post with it and some sandpaper. Then in the full light of the setting sun he was able to read the old words on the wood and he cursed. Stomping into camp he furiously began sanding out all trace of the hated name of "Money Joe's".

His friends let him work in silence that evening. It was only when he stopped to shake a cramp out of his arm when Bill quietly offered, "You look like you could use some coffee. Go grab a cup and let me take a turn at that." Coop looked up at the tall train Segundo with eyes that betrayed his inner hurt, but the look was quickly hidden with anger. Coop growled, "I…"  
Bill cut him off, "I knew her too, you know. She was a cute kid. I've always felt poorly about not leaving a marker."  
In a flash the anger was gone from Coop's eyes. He hunched his shoulders and nodded once. "Thanks," he said handing the board to Bill.

As the night wore on, the board was quietly passed from: Bill, to Charlie, and then to Chris. By the time it was handed back to Coop all trace of the accursed red lettering were gone. For the first time in two days a real smile crossed Coop's face.

The good feelings of having friends let Coop fall asleep easier that night though his dreams were still memory plagued. He saw himself fighting Seth and Adam in the small campsite. He was holding his own against the pair only to be felled by a blow from behind by their father. This time, instead of falling unconscious, he watched as that devil Eli coldly cocked his gun and aimed it at his unprotected head. Milly's scream pierced the night and the scene shifted.

Coop felt Milly's crying that first night out on the trail cut into his soul as cruelly as the cuts and blisters tore the flesh off his feet. The child needed shoring up; something to hold on to. He pulled a small blue stone from his pocket. It wasn't very big but it was pretty. "Milly honey, I'd like you to have this. An Indian scout gave it to me for luck. I think you could use it right about now."

The gift had stilled the child's tears. She'd thrown her arms around his neck and clung there whispering, "I love you."

Somewhere in the back of Coop's head a silent warning bell sounded, and he thought, _"Coop you are an idiot. All this love sick little girl needed was encouragement, and you just gave it to her. Her mama is going to kill you if we get out of this."_ He glanced across at Emily Dawson to see just how much trouble he was in, but the woman's face reflected only gratitude. The dream shifted again.

Coop knelt by the small pile of stones covering Milly's grave. He picked up the small piece of turquoise that had ridden inside Milly's pocket ever since he'd given it to her. Setting the stone in the middle of the rock pile he saw himself rise and stumble off across the sand trying to get to the train. In the dream he relived the pain of that crossing; falling over and over endlessly but each time fighting to get up again.

He woke himself up with his gasping for breath. It was a familiar feeling although he'd not experienced it for a while. Knowing that more sleep was impossible Coop rose and used the light of the moon to patrol the encampment perimeter. He hoped that being away from Money Joe's would drive his nightmare away.

WT*WT*WT*WT

" _So much for that theory,"_ Coop thought after waking up in the middle of the next night, _"Might as well do something useful."_ Once more he took out the board that he'd begun carving, picked up the wood chisel and hammer, and headed out of the camp. The light of the full moon made crossing the dry wash simple. His thoughts were interrupted by a faint cry coming from the far side of the wash, well out of hearing from the rest of the camp. He thought to himself, _"I wonder who else is out here. Of course it could be trouble so I'd best be careful."_

Coop moved cautiously through the night, following the sound, until he was relieved at the sight of Mrs. Bardon sitting on a rock. He called quietly, "Ma'am what are you doing out here?"  
The woman leaped off the rock and almost dropped the squirming bundle she held on her lap. The other child was wiggling underneath a blanket which hung from her shoulder. Coop blushed and continued the conversation staring intently at the sage brush by her feet.  
Mrs. Bardon didn't take notice of the man's discomfort, "Mr. Smith, you startled me." She then grew apologetic, "Oh I hope these two didn't wake you up. I tried so hard to get out of camp without them raising a fuss."  
"No ma'am you didn't wake me. How about I take one of them off your hands for a bit," Coop set down the things he carried and held out his hands, offering to take up the baby which had barely escaped the tumble.  
After she nodded permission, he scooped up the squirming infant and began rocking it in his arms. The child's beleaguered mother looked on with great surprise and blurted, "You have a surprising way with babies."

He grinned sheepishly, "It isn't something I go bragging on, but I had a younger brother once. Ma would have me help out on occasion."  
She smiled and asked, "I'm real grateful to her. So if we didn't wake you up. What brings you all the way out here?"  
"Couldn't sleep. Was going to do some carving." He tilted his head at the board by his feet.  
Mrs. Bardon leaned over and read 'Milly Daws …' she looked up at him and said, "I'm so sorry. I've been so distracted with these two I didn't know we'd lost anyone on the train."

Coop shook his head, "We haven't ma'am. This happened a couple years back. I was too sick to leave more than a pile of rocks last time."  
"I'm sure God and this girl understands. It will be mighty fine when you get it finished." She pointed at the wood, "What will you put in the blank spot below the text?"  
"Haven't thought about it yet," he answered shrugging.

Mrs. Bardon pushed her unruly hair back behind her ears and opined, "Graves look better with flowers on them, not that flowers would grow well in this country, but you could carve some."  
"That's a mighty fine idea," then Coop sighed, "I just wish I could draw them."  
"Would you think it forward if I sketched one out for you?" she asked tentatively.  
His eyes sparkled in the moon light, "No that would be real nice."  
Mrs. Bardon peeked under the blanket drape. She turned her back saying, "Well this one is finally full, and asleep. Let me get myself presentable; then I'll draw a rose out for you."

Coop managed to hold both sleeping babies while she used a stylus to scratch the outline of a single rose on the board.

After she left, Coop finished the carving '… Dawson, age 12, Rest In Peace'. By the time he finished the rose he agreed that the marker did look better with the flower on it.

WT*WT*WT*WT

Coop wasn't sure if having the marker completed or getting farther away from Money Joe's was what helped him sleep but the next night he was finally able to rest. So he was feeling fit, when he left the next morning for Soda Springs. Cutting across the desert wasteland he took a track that would put him near the rocks where he'd once left the Mason's, Mrs. Dawson, and Milly's grave.

By mid-day, with heat rising from the ground in waves, he began searching for the rock pile marking the grave. Four hours later he was hot, dry, and incredibly frustrated. The shifting sands had devoured Milly's rock cairn, wiping out all trace of the mound. With only a few hours of daylight left to reach Soda Springs, Coop reluctantly gave up the search. Sighing in frustration, the man turned Gambler's head toward the springs while hoping that this part of the trip would go better.

Sundown found him at the remains of Soda Springs. Dead trees and dry brush told the fate of the once reliable water hole. Coop was glad he'd loaded Gambler up with extra water sacks as that would be the only water they would have until Tremont.

WT*WT*WT*WT

The next morning Coop calculated his trajectory across the desert. It wasn't the worst track Coop ever followed, but there were several washes that he was forced to cross. Around two in the afternoon, while skirting the rim of yet another wash, chaos erupted beneath Gambler's hooves. Unknown to man or horse the area was undercut with multiple burrows; while rabbits had run across the track with impunity, the weight of a horse and rider proved to be too much for the supporting soil.

Gambler's hindquarters dropped out beneath him and the horse tipped onto his side. Coop reacted to the falling animal, kicking his feet from the stirrups and launching himself clear. He made a last second decision to plow into a large rabbit bush instead of landing in a patch of Beavertail cacti. A seering pain in his arm made him wish he'd opted for the cactus spines, especially after he spotted the tiny buttoned tail of a baby rattlesnake disappearing into the bushes.

Coop ripped open his shirt sleeve, revealing two tiny puncture wounds inflicted upon his arm. Swearing at this bad luck, he tore off his bandanna and tied a tourniquet around his arm. Next he yanked out his boot knife; steeling himself against the pain, he enlarged the wounds making cross cuts across each bite and letting the blood flow freely. Trying to calm his frantically beating heart, he took a deep breath, and brought the wound to his mouth. He commenced sucking out the pouring blood. When his mouth could hold no more he spat the salty mixture into the dirt and began again.

He continued sucking the poison and blood from his arm for about 5 minutes, finally deciding that either he'd gotten the poison out, or not. One thing was sure, if he continued to let his arm bleed he might pass out right there. Covering the wound with a compression bandage, while sending a prayer to the Almighty that enough of the poison was gone, he released the tourniquet.

Getting to Tremont had now become desperately urgent. Fortunately, Gambler was standing quietly nearby. Coop lurched to his feet and made his way to the horse. The animal seemed almost apologetic that he'd dumped his rider and stood still while Coop examined his legs. Fortunately, the critter was in better shape than he was.

Satisfied Coop pulled himself into the saddle; getting hit with a bout of dizziness for his trouble. Whether it was from the blood loss, poison, or both Coop didn't know or really care. He kicked Gambler into a trot and the pair headed east toward the place he knew he could get some help **.**

WT*WT*WT*WT

Thirty minutes later it was apparent that some of the poison was in his system. The skin around the bite turned black and the arm throbbed. Coop tied his reins and scratched Gambler's neck saying, "There you go boy. Now if I fall off, you can keep moving. No sense both of us dying out here."

As they traveled, Coop's head slowly slumped downward towards his mount's neck while the sun continued it's track across the sky. Sensing that his rider was falling asleep, Gambler slowed to a walk. With a moan Coop startled awake. He fumbled for the canteen and took a long drink. It did nothing to quench his raging thirst. Then Gambler stumbled over a rock and the horse's slight movement almost unseated him - his knees had lost their ability to grip anything.

Taking his lariat Coop tied himself to the saddle, his clumsy fingers making the simple task difficult. Finally finished, he urged the horse towards Tremont, but he soon lost all focus and lay like a sack across the animal's neck.

Gambler, realizing that his master no longer cared where they were going, turned north toward an enticing smell.

WT*WT*WT*WT

As the scent grew stronger in Gambler's nostrils he could hear metallic squeaking. Moving closer the sound of human voices carried on the wind.  
"How many scoops of sugar will you take in your tea, Illy?" The voice was small and high pitched. After a pause the voice continued, "Two scoops? OK here you go." A few minutes later the child's voice said, "So do you think we will get rain soon? Papa would like it to rain. Oh dear, not for a month! Oh Illy, that is horrible."

Gambler continued moving toward the smell and the sounds continued to reach his ears. This time it was the low voices of a man and woman being carried on the breeze.  
"Josette, I just don't think it is right for a child to be talking to herself like that."  
The woman's whisper carried to the soft hairs of Gambler's ears, "Ah ma chérie, it is perfectly normal for a child to invent friends especially when they live alone. Quit worrying."  
The deep rich voice of the male was closer, "Maybe settling this far from folks wasn't a good idea."

Gambler increased his pace as much as he dared without dislodging the limp rider on his back and neck. Topping the rise out of the wash, he could see the shape of a turning windmill standing near a door in the side of a hill. He nickered at the strong sent of water coming from the trough at the windmill's base.

Coop's mind crawled from the darkness where it had fled. He was as thirsty as he'd ever been in his life and that was saying something. Strange voices surrounded him as he felt himself being taken off the horse. He struggled to open eyelids which felt about a thousand pounds apiece. He finally won the war as he was being laid back across a soft bed. A strong male voice said, "You are awake, this is good." The man slid his arm under Coop's shoulders and raised his head saying, "Just a little now, we don't want you getting sick."

Blessed water eased down his throat and he drank greedily.  
"Let's get a little more down you and you can tell us what happened."

A woman's voice, "Oh Jean-Marc, he's been snake bit, here on his arm. I'll get the medicine." Coop turned his attention to his left, and caught the briefest glimpse of a curly brown haired woman before she turned and rustled away in a flash of plain blue skirts.

The man's strong bass continued, "Now don't you go worrying none mister." He then added proudly," My Josette is a good herb woman and will set you right."

A tiny voice added, "Just swallow quick and don't mind the taste." Coop looked down his torso and beheld a tiny girl whose hair matched that of her mothers. The little girl sounded about the same age as Chrissy.

"I'll try… to … remember that," he gasped out.

"Now Mister, don't you go using all your strength on idle chatter. My name's Jean-Marc Albin, that's my misses, Josette, and my girl, Ann-Marie. I need you to drink more of this before we continue with the pleasantries." Jean-Marc raised Coop's head and shoulders effortlessly; placing the cup to Coop's lips he let him drink his fill. Jean-Marc laid his head back down and asked, "Who are you?"  
"Coop. Cooper… Smith." Then stringing a coherent set of thoughts together he managed to croak out, "Soda Springs… dry. Got to warn… train….Tremont."  
It seemed to be enough information for Jean-Marc, "You scout for a wagon train?"  
Coop nodded his head.

Jean-Marc asked, "Want me to head to Tremont, and tell them where you are; then steer them over here for water?"  
Coop nodded again.  
"I can do that Mister Smith. You just lie there and drink whatever Josette gives you."

The sound of skirts announced Mrs. Albin's reappearance. Her voice was pleasant, if business like. "Alright I've got the Snakeweed brewing but first let's try treating this bite direct. " She removed the bandage from his arm. "I see you cut out the bite, you suck out the poison?"  
"Yes ma'am," his voice sounded raspy in his own ears.  
"Good, I'm going to put on this poultice. It's tobacco and common plantain so I'll warn you now this is going to burn like the devil. But it'll stop whatever infection may have started and draw out more of the poison."

Without another word she slapped the brown and green soaked cloth against the wound and he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. She hadn't been exaggerating about the burn. Coop tried not to swear, and Jean-Marc deftly removed his boots.

"It will stop soon." Jean-Marc said drawing a quilt over him, and lifting Coop's arm so that it lay on top of the multicolored patchwork. "I'll be heading out to Tremont soon. If I hurry I should make it by sundown. Don't you worry about your people; I'll make sure they know how to find this place." He rose from the bed and turned to walk out the door. Pausing in the door frame of the dugout he turned back and ordered, "And don't you go givin' my misses any grief."  
Coop said, "I won't; you have my word on that. And thanks mister."  
Coop settled himself on the pillow. The blanket felt wonderful because, despite the heat of the day, he was chilled to the bone. He closed his eyes to rest because it was tiring fighting the chill, and the ache in his arm.

WT*WT*WT*WT

Mrs. Albin woke him a little later to give him the snakeweed tea to counteract the poison. The stuff tasted terrible and it immediately upset his stomach. She helped him roll on his side and parked a bucket nearby. She puttered over to the stove and brewed him a cup of sassafrass to settle the nausea. For a while it worked and Coop was able to drink more water to slake his raging thirst. Despite that, Coop realized that slowly, but surely, he was losing this war. Across the room the little girl hugged her doll and stared at him with huge eyes. He managed to smile at her and was pleased to see her smile in return. Then his vision blurred and he couldn't make out her face anymore.

The fuzzy image of Josette and another cup of water came into his view. He tried to rise but failed miserably. The woman struggled with his now dead weight and managed to get him propped up in bed, but when she held the cup to his lips he discovered that his jaws were locked together. She set the cup down and tried without success to help him get them apart. All the while it became harder and harder to breathe and Coop felt himself fall flat on the pillows.

He closed his exhausted eyes and heard Josette softly say, "Ann-Marie come outside with me. We need to talk." He heard the rustle of skirts, and the soft click of the dugout door closing. He couldn't blame the woman for taking her little one away. It would be hard to explain death to one so young and that little snake had planted both his boots firmly in his grave. Every breath was a fight now and the final dark pressed ever closer. Still he fought it off with yet another hard won lung full. Charlie always said he was a stubborn cuss and Coop meant to prove the old cook right. His next breath was even harder to win than the prior one, and he thought, _"Lord, I wish I could tell: Charlie, Chris, Bill, and Barney goodbye."_

All of a sudden, Coop felt himself being lifted into a semi reclining position, and a firm hand ran along his locked jaw line. Strong pressure was applied to his lower jaw, parting his teeth. He felt the cool rim of a cup at his lips and medicine was poured into his mouth. "It's no good," he thought as he'd long forgotten how to swallow.

The feel of a strange hand at his throat awoke his fight reflexes. Fortunately, his arms were working just about as well as the rest of him, and the adrenaline fueled order to slug whoever had him by the throat was ignored. The hand was surprisingly gentle as it moved his throat muscles so that they finally swallowed the odd tasting medicine in his mouth. A strange woman's voice encouraged him saying, "Drink Coop. This will make you well."

Again his jaws were parted and the process repeated. This time he didn't try to fight the helping hand. On the third round his throat remembered how to work on its own and the next time he was able to finally open his eyes. His vision was blurred but he finally made out the shape of a young woman. Her hair was yellow like corn silk; her wide cheekbones gave her a handsome appearance rather than one that was classically beautiful. Still he couldn't take his eyes off her sapphire blue eyes. He had so many questions, but his mouth still refused to work. He managed to cock a questioning eyebrow.

"The Albin's asked me to come over." She explained. She slipped her arm beneath his shoulder blades and effortlessly lifted his dead weight. "Fortunately this doesn't taste nearly as bad as snakeweed. It will help you to keep breathing."

Coop drank what remained of the oddly colored liquid, a task that seemed to take all the strength he had. Then his eyelids slid shut of their own volition. He felt himself settling again on the pillow as the unknown blond said, "Lay back, rest, and let the medicine do its work."

Coop felt her hands run gently across his forehead and her touch soothed the throbbing in his head. She traced her hands down his arm and the pressure relieved the agony of the snake bite. Her touch was along his torso now and again he felt muscles that had knotted and stiffened into rock relax. Then he took in his first breath of air that he hadn't mentally had to fight for in a goodly long while. A few seconds latter his muscles drew in another breath and he heard her voice, "Sleep and heal Cooper Smith."

His mind stopped struggling to stay awake and he slept.

WT*WT*WT*WT

The medication wearing off and the return of the throbbing in his arm pulled him out of the warm place where he'd been. Hearing a happy chirp, "Maman, il se réveille." He pried his eyelids open to see the little happy face of Ann-Marie. Josette moved up behind her daughter and laid a hand on her shoulder.  
"Bien fait, ma chérie." She smiled and turned to Coop, "Welcome back. How do you feel?"  
He croaked, "Rode hard and put away wet."

The woman picked up a glass of water by the bed, "Can you move?"  
Coop flexed his fingers and then managed to push himself up in the bed. He wasn't moving with any speed, and everything felt stiff, but he was able to get into a sitting position. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was grateful that she was the one hanging onto the glass and letting him get a few sips of water. The liquid immediately bounced hard and tried to return the way it came. He pushed the glass away.

Josette asked, "Upset stomach?" He nodded. Turning to her daughter she softly ordered, "Go get a cup of the sassafras tea sitting on the warmer. Be sure you use a cloth to pick it up so you won't burn yourself." After the child trotted off to the kitchen she whispered, "I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you awake."  
"I'm kind of happy about it myself. Until your neighbor showed up I thought I was a goner. Whatever she gave me last night sure helped. Is she around still? I'd like to thank her."  
Josette looked perplexed, "No one has been here but us. " Then she exclaimed, "Oh Monsieur! You were so sick last night you must have dreamed her." Ann-Marie's arrival interrupted the conversation.

Later on Josette helped the recovering scout to a chair outside on the porch. It made the trip to the necessary considerably shorter and, by sunset, Coop was intimately acquainted with the purgative effects of snakeweed.

Still, the sun was shining and he was grateful to be able to enjoy its warmth. He looked across the yard and watched Ann-Marie playing marbles. She would take her turn and then she'd shoot for her friend Illy; all the while carrying on a one-sided conversation. Coop smiled and went into the house. He had a bit of deer hide in his saddlebags that would make a nice pouch for the little girl's marble collection.

Returning to the porch he cut two semi-circles from the soft leather. Using his knife as an awl he punched slits around the perimeter. Finally he cut a long skinny strip of leather which he began threading through the holes to create the seams. As he worked he heard Ann-Maria say, "I'm so glad there will be someone else to play with. We'll have so much fun the three of us."

The little girl stared across the marble circle and frowned for a few seconds. "But I don't want you to go," she stated scuffing the dirt with her fingers. Finally she asked her invisible playmate, "You sure?"

She stood up and wandered over to the porch. "Illy said that I should come see you. What you making?"  
Coop smiled, "This will be a pouch to hold your marbles. It's kind of a thank you gift for you taking such good care of me."  
The girl exclaimed, "Wow that'll be great. Illy said I'd like it."  
Coop smiled as she ran over to where her mother was hanging up the wash and started running circles around and between the sheets calling, "Come on Illy you can't catch me."

Mrs. Albin chided her daughter, "You be careful not to get dirt on those now." She shook her head and headed for the house. She paused by Coop's chair and declared, "Honestly, I don't know where she gets these ideas. I hope you aren't offended by her fantasy friend."  
"No problem Ma'am. I seem to remember playing with an imaginary friend on more'n one occasion growing up myself."  
"Thank you for being so understanding." She looked across the desert and asked, "I wonder when Jean-Marc will get back?"  
"I reckon sometime tomorrow."  
"Really?"  
"I'd lay odds on it."  
Josette laughed and then went inside to finish dinner.

WT*WT*WT*WT

The following afternoon again found Coop on the porch. This time he was shucking peas into a bowl when two riders appeared over the horizon. The man in the lead swung out of his saddle and hit the ground before his horse stopped moving. He charged across the yard and scooped Josette and Ann-Marie into his arms.  
His, "Did you miss me?" was met with laughter hugs and kisses.

The other man pushed his tan hat back on his head, rubbed his jaw and drawled at Coop, "You seem to got a knack for that. You planning on taking over Barney's job as cook's assistant?"  
Coop tossed a pea at his friend, "Very funny Bill."  
The tall ramrod dismounted, strode up the porch, grabbed Coop by both shoulders and practically lifted the scout out of his chair. "Boy I'm glad to see you. All reports said you weren't doing so good."  
"I wasn't, but these folks patched me up just fine," he said with a smile.  
"What happened? Jean-Marc was a bit hazy on the details."

Coop and Bill spent the next few hours catching each other up on what had happened since they'd seen each other last. They were just finishing up when the white canvas wagon tops appeared and a very excited young man on a pinto charged into the yard. Barney's enthusiastic greeting rivaled Bill's. A more restrained Chris Hale soon followed though he was equally glad to see Coop still amongst the living.

Charlie arrived talking a mile a minute and was still going when he declared that this called for a celebration and he was making a cake. Barney left with him to dig the fire pit for the Dutch oven and Bill departed to organize the wagons for the night. With a quiet moment to themselves Chris asked Coop, "Did you find Milly's grave?"  
"No. I left the marker over by the barn. I'm not sure…" his sentence was interrupted as two small girls playing a fierce game of tag dashed between the two men.

Chris laughed, "Mrs. Albin and the Bardon's apparently knew each other back east. Chrissy could hardly wait to meet their Ann-Marie." He pointed to Josette and Mrs. Bardon chatting animatedly on the porch, "I'm not sure who is happier to see who, those two or the children."

WT*WT*WT*WT

The next morning, as the train prepared to depart, Chris and Coop went to the dugout to bid farewell to the Albins. They were met by Mr. Barton who said, "I wanted to tell you that my wife and I have decided to leave the train and settle here. We talked it over with the Albin's and they like the idea of us staying on."  
Chris nodded, "Can't say that I'm surprised. Best of luck to all of you."

Coop led his horse to the house where the Albin's stood. "Good-bye Mrs. Albin and thank you for everything."  
Coop felt a tug on his pant's leg and he knelt so that he was eye to eye with Ann-Marie, "I want to thank you for helping your mama with me too."  
"You're welcome." She paused, "Coop, Illy asked me to give you this," she placed a small blue piece of turquoise in his gloved hand, "She says you need your luck back."  
Coop stared at the familiar stone, "Where'd you get this?"  
"Illy showed me where to find it last year when we were crossing the desert."  
Coop's voice shook slightly as he asked, "What does Illy look like?"  
Ann-Marie smiled, "Oh sometimes she's a kid and sometimes she's big like mama."  
He cocked his head and rubbed his hands along his pant legs, "How do you know it's her?" he asked.  
The little girl chirped, "That's easy, she always has corn silk hair and the prettiest bright blue eyes." With that the little girl gave him a big hug and dashed off to join her new friend.

The scout's gaze shifted back and forth from the stone to the bolting child; he stood up abruptly, and then reeled. Mrs. Albin caught him by the elbow, "You look like you've seen a ghost."  
"I may have. That or an angel," he licked his suddenly very dry lips, "Remember when I woke up and thought a neighbor had given me something the night I was so sick?"  
She nodded.  
"The description of your daughter's adult imaginary friend is how I'd describe the woman in my dream. But the young version of Illy is just like I remember Milly Dawson."  
Josette looked at him nervously, "Milly is the child whose grave you couldn't find?"  
Coop nodded and showed her the turquoise, "Yes, I left this stone on her grave two years ago."  
"Oh Monsieur! What you don't know is that up until last month my daughter couldn't pronounce words starting with M. What if she's been meaning to say Milly all this time?"

The two adults stared at each other and then at Ann-Marie. A warm breeze crossed the yard, circled the pair and Coop felt a gentle touch like that of a child's hand on his cheek. They both heard a child whisper, "Bye."

 **Epilog**

A few years later Coop sat in the patio of a Los Angeles Cantina when a large shadow darkened his table. Looking up he grinned at the broad shouldered giant, "Well, I'll be. How've you been Duke?"  
"Not bad. I just got in with my train. I never realized just how much work wagon mastering was until I started one of my own."  
The dark haired scout motioned for the big blond to have a seat. As he did Coop called, "Two beers over here."

The pretty senorita delivering them eyed the scout and wagon master with appreciation and both men smiled back. The distraction ended when another client called her over, and the pair fell to discussing changes to the various routes into California.

Duke put down his beer and said, "By the way, there is a new settlement between Tremont and Riverdale."  
"What's its name?" Coop asked taking a gulp of beer.  
"Milly's Crossing," Duke replied.

Coop swallowed wrong and the resulting coughing fit gave him time to figure out what to tell, or not tell his old friend.

 **Author's notes:**

The method for treating snakebite, described in this piece, is a Nineteenth century remedy. **Don't use it.** Snakeweed is a great purgative but does nothing to counteract venom.

The symptoms Coop experienced are consistent with the bite of a Mohave Rattlesnake. Mohaves are found in the deserts of southern Nevada. They are also found adjacent into California, and a good chunk of Arizona. Some are now found in West Texas, as well as Northern Mexico.


End file.
